New Names, New Masks
by Kyrthira Phelan
Summary: Katherin (aka Melerdil), newly Embraced of the Gangrel clan, learns from Aramis, an old Toreador.


11 Novmember 2002 – Monday Evening

Melerdil rose from the ground, and shook her head to clear out some of the dirt from her hair.  She ran her hands quickly over her hair to get rid of the rest, and walked back to Aramis' house.  Hopefully she'd be able to get herself cleaned up and get contacts in before Aramis saw her.  Not to mention change.

He was waiting for her, though, when she walked in.  He rose from the couch and greeted her, plucking a leaf from her hair.  She felt bad when he said there was a bed prepared for her, and she combed her hair with her fingers to pluck out another leaf.  They were to begin her training in earnest as the Frenchman put it.

He must be able to tell when she was irritated.  He commented that there must be trust between them, that in working to improve her self-control there would be times when she'd want to rip his throat out.  The prospect worried her.  She didn't like the idea of hurting anyone, and there was also the worry of attacking a Kindred likely much older than herself and faring badly.  Let alone the feeling she was left with after the anger passed.  He did have a very, very god point though, in that she could achieve greater control of herself.

Thankfully that would not be the night's exercise.  He was going to teach her proper etiquette, speech, posture, mostly things she'd learned as a child but had only listened to with half an ear.  This time, she'd listen.  If nothing else than because Aramis would look down on her, and she would prove him right that she was nothing more than an uncivilized Gangrel.

He ordered Picard to get a mirror, and told her to look into it, snatching her sunglasses from her overalls.  He ruffled and mused her hair, and put the sunglasses on her face, then spoke.  'This is the mask that is Melerdil.'  She watched him through the mirror after examining herself a moment.  'Now … watch …'

He moved behind her, removing the glasses, smoothing and pulling back her hair and lifting her chin.  'This … is the Lady Katherin.'  He smiled, and she peered at him again in the mirror.  He stood over her shoulder much as he'd done years ago in Paris.  That was almost ten years ago.  She looked at him in the mirror and remembered fondly the time they'd shared.  Nothing … sordid, just being with him, around him, and it brought a smile to her face.

'Lady, huh?' she asked teasingly, trying to picture herself a Lady, after she'd been abandoned by her family … her Regnant … her sire … hell, pretty much everyone she'd ever loved, _including_ Aramis.  And then there was the matter of her clan…

'Oui, Lady.  We should choose an elegant name to match.  Your mortal name was Fortelli, oui?'

She winced, remembering her family.  Again. [*] 'Didn't I tell you?  They disowned me.  I stopped using that name a long time ago.'  She dismissed his idea at her still honoring the name.  She'd stopped using it years ago, and over time it didn't fit anymore, especially now.  It just didn't seem right.

She dismissed using Joseph's last name of Torman, even though that was what she'd used after leaving behind her family.  He Sire's name didn't fit either.

'Hmm.  Lady Katherin de Florenten?'

She chuckled at his suggestion of the name he'd himself used in Paris, commenting that she'd never learned French.  She couldn't picture herself as French, either.

She laughed again as he suggested d'Florentine as an alternative, but the wheels were turning, and she watched her reflection for a moment as the image of Lady Katherin d'Florentine began to form in her mind.  Not thinking, she followed a small noise by turning her head.

'Use your eyes, not your head.'  Aramis moved her head back towards the mirror.  'Same action, but different in appearance.  One is wary and feral –' (_Feral?  Is that what I'm becoming?_ she thought) ' – the other, watchful and aloof.'

Katherin didn't think that it mattered how she walked, but that was the next thing Aramis suggested.  He gestured the length of the room and told her to walk from one wall to the other and back.

She started across the room, her normal stride one of purpose and lately slightly predatory, although her steps were soft; her eyes roamed to look at one thing or another as it caught her eye.

She raised her head at his coaching from the center of the room, then putting her shoulders back and smoothing her steps.  She forced her eyes not to wander – too far, at least, limiting herself to satisfying curiosity with things directly in front of her.  There was a subtle change in her when she did, a sign of what she could accomplish if she tried.

He asked if she ever danced, to which she replied no.  She'd never really gone in for dancing, especially _classical_ dancing.  She supposed it was something he might use as an example of grace.  Instead, he demonstrated how she should hide the predator, glide across the floor, with grace.  She resisted the urge to track his movement, and merely watched.  He walked as if weighed down by nothing heavier than a feather.  'Tis a mask you wear.  If they can see you as a beast, you will be treated as such, oui?  The idea is aloof … close, but unattainable.  T'will make others desire you and your company … do things for you …'  The wheels in Katherin's head started spinning, and a slow grin formed on her face.

'I might just be able to do that, yeah.'

She was shocked for a moment at his suggestion of wearing a mask of age, of 'around 300 years or so'.  Not that she didn't want to try pulling it off, it was simply the idea of living that long that kind of scared her.  She mentioned something to the same effect, and he told her his age and Layla's.  Aramis was over four hundred years old, the woman twice that.

Katherin blinked.  'You two,' she said haltingly, 'are the oldest Kindred I have ever met.'

He laughed, and said there had been older at Conclave, those who were likely upwards of _thousands_ of years old.  Inside Katherin – and Melerdil – shivered at the thought, but she knew it to be true.  She had seen Their Graces, Quasimodo and Cynric, and their Archons, and knew they were likely close to that ancient age if not there.  She corrected her statement by saying they were the oldest she'd _interacted_ with.

'You must remember, two masks.  One is Melerdil, young, brash and impatient ... the other an Age-Old Lady, calm, patient … dignified.'  She thought on that a moment, and nodded.

'Now walk, ma cherie ... glide across the floor, knowing that all who look upon you will wish your company and you alone will choose who you spend your time with … perhaps there are none worthy here?'

She pondered the way she would walk, and spoke.  'Faró il mio la cosa milgiore.'  ('I will do my best.')  She spoke good Italian, having learned it as a child.  It put her into the frame of mind she'd been looking for.

She turned, and walked slowly towards the wall, remembering what Ashley had told her about not seeming as though you were in a hurry.  She couldn't quite resist the urge to look around, and so made it seem she were considering imaginary people one by one, and dismissing them.  She couldn't stop the slightly predatory gait, but combined with her other actions made her into a predator of an entirely different sort.

'Prey upon their desire, ma cherie … ' Aramis spoke, 'and they will beg for more … '  Lady Katherin turned and saw Aramis cross his arms, one hand rising to stroke his beard.  She briefly wondered if he realized the tiny smile on his face. Well, if he was going to act like _that_…

A slow smile of her own formed and she put a little more effort into her steps.  She walked back to where she started, made eye contact just for a moment with him … and continued past.  (_'Perhaps there are none worthy here' indeed,_ she thought.)

She continued only a few more steps before spinning around with a big cheesey grin, proud of herself that she could at least once snub someone of much greater age and power and get away with it, even if it was only in jest.  'How'd I do?'

Aramis laughed and nodded, clapping quietly in approval that Katherin basked in.  'Well done.  This may not be so hard after all.'  Picard, having moved out of the way to near the wall, let out an appreciative whistle and winked.  Katherin would have blushed if her current state could allow; she'd forgotten the other man was there.

Aramis then brought up her speech, asking if she knew Italian.  She said she did, and he advised her incorporate it into her speech, using a few words here and there in the language as though forgetting a word.

'Well, I do have a habit of mumbling in Sindarin sometimes.'  She thought a moment more, then continued, 'I suppose I could work on it in Italian though.'

Aramis nodded, silent for a bit as he thought.

'The Lady Katherin d'Florentine d'Rosa.'

Katherin looked at him strangely.  'Of the Rose?  So I'm to be a Toreador now?'

Aramis grinned faintly.  'For now we can work on this, but later you could be adopted into the clan.'

Katherin frowned.  If the head of the clan allowed, she could be a Toreador.  _Would_ be a Toreador for all intents and purposes, save her blood.  She'd been offered adoption before, by Carmen of the Brujah, and after a long, considering pause, spoke.  'I am a Gangrel.  If I will it, I can grow claws from my fingers.'  She held her hands out in front of her, fingers bent as if they _were_ clawed.  'It's who I am, now.'

Aramis nodded in understanding.  'Very well, but it is there.  Now.  You should practice your introduction.  You are the Lady Katherin d'Florentine d'Rosa, of age and wisdom.  Introduce yourself to me.'

Katherin giggled.  'You _practice_ this stuff?' she asked incredulously.

'Oui, you do.  Now, introduce yourself.'  His voice was still light, but held a firmness to it.  She giggled again.

'Feel sort of silly, but all right …'  She took in a breath and closed her eyes.  She remembered his advice on incorporating bits of Italian into her speech, and quickly came up with what she'd say.

She opened her eyes again, imagining she wore one of the dresses they'd bought the night before.  She lifted her chin with a regal air and took in a breath.

'Buona sera.  I am Lady Katherin d'Florentine d'Rosa.'

'_The_ Lady Katherin,' Aramis murmured immediately, seemingly as an afterthought.  At her questioning gaze, he repeated it.  'It is _the_ Lady Katherin.  You should always say it like that.  Now, again.'

'Again?!' she asked.

'Yes, again.  You must know it by heart.'

Katherin sighed, and looked past Aramis to a non-point by the wall.  'Buona sera,' she spoke, rolling the sounds off her tongue.  'I am the Lady Katherin d'Florentine d'Rosa.'  It came quicker to her this time.  She raised an eyebrow at the Frenchman, and bit her lip.

'Better.  Again.'

Katherin spent the next ten minutes doing nothing but saying her name.  Then he had her walk again.  He had her sit, and stand, and sit, and stand.  And walk across the room and introduce herself, sit down and introduce herself, and all about a hundred times.

He taught her how to make a roper entrance into a room, as well as a proper exit.  He also taught her the proper way to speak, and a thousand other things.  When she yawned and looked at her watch, she realized they'd spent the entire night on _this_.

Aramis complimented her on her performance, and excused himself.  Katherin took a quick shower, and this time retired to the bed that was still prepared for her.  She fell into sleep with her great-grandmother's voice echoing in her mind, telling her she could be whatever she wanted to be, if she only tried.


End file.
